Reminders and Regrets
by Celli
Summary: "I hate you some / and I love you some / but I miss you most." Part of the Elizabeth Smart Challenge. Clark/Lex.


Reminders and Regrets  
by Celli Lane  
  
***  
  
Feedback: celli@fanfic101.com   
Category: Futurefic; angst; slash.  
Rating: PG-13 for language and "sexual situations."  
Spoiler: One passing reference to "Dichotic."  
Summary: "I hate you some / and I love you some / but I miss you most." Part of the Elizabeth Smart Challenge.  
Archiving: Ask and I'll probably say yes.   
Disclaimer: Smallville and its residents belong to Millar Gough Ink, Warner Brothers, DC Comics, and other assorted people with lawyers. Bummer.   
  
Notes: Huge thanks to Jayne for the challenging, the betaing, and the brainstorming. Feedback, good or bad, greeted with the kind of excitement usually reserved for naked billionaires.  
  
Edited to add: ack! I forgot to explain the challenge-related bits! Notes at the end.  
  
***  
  
You chase me like a shadow  
And you haunt me like a ghost  
And I hate you some  
And I love you some  
But I miss you most...  
--"On a Bus to St. Cloud," Trisha Yearwood  
  
***  
  
Smallville  
Thanksgiving Day  
  
***  
  
Clark stood at the door. That hadn't been a car driving   
by. Well, it had, but it had been a Ford pickup, not an   
Aston Martin or a Porsche or anything costing more than the   
mortgage on the farm.  
  
"Superhearing fails again," he muttered, and went back into   
the kitchen.  
  
"Is someone coming?" his mother asked. Martha seemed to be   
stirring something, setting the table, and giving him a   
Concerned Look at the same time. Moms were amazing.   
  
"Nope. I thought Pete might be down early, but whoever it   
was drove by."  
  
"I'm really looking forward to having everyone back. It   
seems like every time you came home from college these last   
couple years, Pete was interning, and Chloe had a story to   
write, and Lana was out with the horses. It'll be nice to   
have you all together in one place."  
  
"Yeah," Clark said. *All of us that matter anymore.* The   
pain had settled in his chest like a dull ache, and he   
welcomed it lately as his powers grew more and more, well,   
powerful. Maybe he couldn't hurt physically anymore, but   
he could be heartbroken with the best. Yay him.   
  
"I'm surprised it's not snowing," he said quickly as the   
Concerned Look got turned on him again. "It seems like it   
always snows on Thanksgiving, usually just in time for me   
to get stuck in a blizzard driving home."  
  
"Welcome to Kansas," Martha said. "If you don't like the   
weather--"  
  
"Wait five minutes, it'll get worse," they said together.   
Clark felt some of the bitterness ease as he looked at his   
mother. He gave her a quick hug.  
  
"I think it's behaving because Someone," she pointed her   
spoon at the ceiling, "knows it's our last Thanksgiving   
like this."  
  
"What do you mean last? Mom, just because we're graduating   
doesn't mean none of us will come home for the holidays   
again."  
  
"You never know. The Planet might want you to work. There   
might be a big story only you can cover."  
  
"Or a little one and all the star reporters will be home   
for the holidays, more likely. Assuming the Planet hires   
me at all."  
  
"Of course they will!" She leaned against his shoulder.   
"Or there might be a disaster or something. You might need   
to...help out. You never know."  
  
"True." His near-total recall (SuperMemory, Pete called   
it) was the only thing keeping him in a decent GPA this   
year. It seemed there was a new crime to fight every ten   
minutes. He and Pete and his parents all worried about   
it...but they had until graduation to figure something out,   
before he had to find a way to excuse himself from a nine-  
to-five job to go save people secretly. "Okay. So if it's   
our last Thanksgiving bash, we should do it properly.   
Anything I can do to help?"  
  
She pointed at the table. "The cider's getting cold."  
  
Fwoomp! He blasted it with a quick heat wave. "Not   
anymore."  
  
She was laughing. "Okay, but after everyone gets here, you   
might want to use the microwave instead."  
  
"Yes, Mom."  
  
"Now get your dad. If we let him, he'll be playing with   
the new tractor all day and he'll never get dressed for   
dinner."  
  
***  
  
Jonathan was in the barn, of course, practically petting   
the new tractor.  
  
"Have you named it yet?"  
  
"What?" His father looked up with an embarrassed laugh.   
"Sorry. I know you and your mother think I'm being   
foolish--"  
  
"No, not foolish." Clark stepped next to him and ran a   
hand over one wheel. "It's going to make a huge difference   
in our productivity this year." He didn't look at his dad.   
"Almost makes up for me being gone."  
  
"Clark."  
  
He shrugged. "I know it's harder without me."  
  
"Well, yeah. I'm not going to deny that. But I miss you,   
son, not your abilities."  
  
Clark shuffled his feet. "Yeah. But." He sent a sideways   
look at his dad. "The tractor will help, though."  
  
"Is that a hint? I admit, I had a hard time accepting the   
tractor at first."  
  
"So it's all gifts you have trouble taking, not just a   
Luthor's." The silence that followed was deafening, and   
Clark shoved both hands in his pockets. *Shit.* "I   
promise I didn't do anything illegal to get the money.   
Pete triple-checked with the Senator's office to make sure   
no one owned the claim, and nobody saw me dig the gold up--  
heck, it's Alaska, I don't think anyone was around for--"  
  
"Clark."  
  
He stopped. Suddenly the dirt on his boots was immensely   
fascinating.  
  
"Don't expect me to get angry because you miss him."  
  
He rubbed a hand absently over his chest. The pain was   
back, compounded by the guilt and the...the sheer emptiness   
that not even Thanksgiving and Pete and Mom and Dad and new   
tractors and new powers could fix.  
  
"I'll get over it," he said roughly.  
  
He heard the long, rough sigh that was almost a platitude   
in itself, and he had to smile.   
  
"I will, Dad."  
  
Jonathan put a hand on each shoulder. "Clark. Look at   
me."  
  
"What?" And it was nearly a whine, dammit, he'd thought he   
was done with complaining and pity and all that.  
  
"Of all the things you can't fix as a father, this is the   
hardest to accept."  
  
"My sexuality?" Clark said lightly, or tried to, and   
Jonathan shook him.  
  
"Stop that." A long, steady look; those eyes still saw   
more than X-Ray vision ever could. "I want to tell you   
it's all for the best. I want to tell you this would   
happen anyway, that's who he is."  
  
What he is, Clark thought. Lex had never been given the   
chance to be who, just what.  
  
"But I'm your dad, and you're hurting, and it doesn't   
matter what I think."  
  
"Dad--" His father's arms were tight around him. How   
could he still miss Lex? It'd been months, for God's sake,   
and there were only so many classes to take, so many chores   
to do, so many lives to save. He should have worked this   
out of his system by now.  
  
"Hearts aren't invulnerable," Jonathan said as if he could   
read Clark's mind.  
  
"I know," he said into his father's shoulder. "I know."   
  
***  
  
Gotham   
Later that day  
  
***  
  
"Mr. Wayne? Mr. Luthor?"  
  
Lex turned smoothly, leaving Bruce still laughing at his   
last joke (or smirking, at least, which was as close to   
laughing as he usually got). "Thank you, Jayne."  
  
"Is that her name?" Bruce murmured, and Lex gave him a   
sardonic look.  
  
"She's your assistant."  
  
Bruce shrugged. "Everything set?"  
  
Lex skimmed through the contracts quickly. They looked the   
same as the ones his lawyers had sweated over for hours,   
but it never hurt to double-check. Even with a Wayne.   
They matched up just fine, and he made short work of the   
multiple signatures.  
  
While Bruce did the same, Lex wandered over to the window   
and stared out. Fifty-some stories down, and it was all   
lights and steel and the occasional snowdrift. Nothing   
like the clean modernity of Metropolis, which was nothing   
more than a facade for the same crap you saw in any big   
city. The polar opposite of Smallville, where even the   
snow was quaint, and hey, he wasn't thinking about that.  
  
He checked his watch. A good half hour since the last time   
he hadn't thought about it. Impressive.  
  
Lex turned back to watch his assistant, Donna, take the   
paperwork and tuck it into his briefcase for him. His eyes   
lingered a bit on the LexCorp logo on the cover page. Even   
after all these years, it gave him a happy little jolt.  
  
"Thanks, Donna. Nothing else tonight. I'll see you in the   
office on Monday."  
  
"Happy Thanksgiving, sir." She followed Jayne out the   
door. Lex was sure they'd be discussing their respective   
executives within seconds. Well, he had Bruce beat on   
fashion, if not looks.  
  
"Heading back home for the holiday?" Bruce asked, moving   
nearly silently to stand beside him at the window.  
  
Home. A city mansion with cold floors and a colder master.   
A stone castle with a bed he still couldn't sleep in. A   
farmhouse kitchen with people laughing and talking with   
their mouths full and passing dishes over and around each   
other in defiance of any rules of manners whatsoever.  
  
"No, I think I'll go out and find a bar that's still open.   
Join me?"  
  
"I have...plans," Bruce said in that deep, portentous voice   
that probably made "I'm using the bathroom" sound like An   
Event.   
  
"Oh. Well." Lex shrugged. "Have fun."  
  
Bruce smirked. "See you."  
  
***  
  
Gotham might be an action-packed town, but it seemed even   
its famous nightlife shut down for Thanksgiving. Lex   
walked along, one part of his brain scanning his   
surroundings, the other flipping through his options. The   
restaurant in the hotel was a last resort...no. He was too   
restless to head back just yet. Two or three visits back,   
Bruce had taken him to a jazz club that was low-key for a   
Luthor but not too unentertaining. Now what street had it   
been on...?  
  
"Day deceives, but at night no one is safe from   
hallucinations!"  
  
"What the *hell*?" Lex spun around, searching the shadows   
near him. "Who said that?"  
  
A man reeled out, bouncing off the nearest streetlight. He   
laughed madly. Drunk? High? Plain old nuts? It was hard   
to tell.  
  
"The legends here are all of bloodfeuds and suicide,   
uncanny foresight and supernatural knowledge."  
  
"Ah...they are?" Lex saw the paper bag clutched in the   
man's hand. Drunk, then. "Glad to know it." He backed up   
a step, calculating how far he should be before turning his   
back on the guy--  
  
--and ran smack into someone. Before he even turned   
around, his stomach sank.  
  
Yes. Bad news. Roughly the size of a mountain, dressed   
completely in leather, with a wicked-looking nightstick in   
one hand. Before Lex could even open his mouth to barter   
(he was arrogant, not stupid), the mountain spoke.  
  
"Wallet. Watch. Coat," it rumbled.  
  
Ah, dammit, not the watch *again.* Lex spread his hands in   
a hopefully non-aggressive gesture. "Look, I'm sure we can   
come to some sort of--"  
  
"Now." The mountain reached out and grabbed his arm.  
  
Lex could feel his temper detaching from the rest of his   
brain and taking over. Oh, to have a good golf club with   
him... "Like. Hell."  
  
The mountain seemed a bit surprised to be challenged, which   
gave Lex just enough time to yank away and put all his   
strength into one punch.  
  
No effect at all. Except on Lex's knuckles. Great. He   
scuttled back a bit, twisting to get to the knife in his   
boot top, which probably would feel like a toothpick to   
this guy. Shit! Where was Clark with his improbable   
rescues when you needed them?  
  
Both Lex and the mountain had forgotten about the drunk.   
"Moon, moon, rise in the sky!" he shrieked. "Be a reminder   
of comfort and the hour when I was brave!"  
  
The mountain jerked around, surprised, which gave Lex   
enough time to dive for the knife. But when he came up,   
someone was behind the mountain. Someone big, masked,   
wearing bat ears.  
  
Huh.   
  
Three kicks later, the mountain was a crumpled heap in a   
corner, and Lex was unscathed right where he'd started. He   
stared at his savior. "Thank you, Batman," he managed.   
Feeling rather stupid, he leaned down to put the knife   
away. What was he supposed to say? To do? You didn't tip   
superheroes, did you?  
  
Of course, by the time he straightened, Batman was gone.   
"This is familiar," he told the empty air. "I have a   
friend you should meet."  
  
Then he stared back at the ground. No...no, he didn't.  
  
"There is no room for pity, of anything," the drunk said.   
He'd moved until he was standing right next to Lex. "In a   
bleeding heart I should find only exhilaration in the   
richness of the red." He grinned and held his hand out.  
  
Lex dug through his coat pockets until he found a silver   
monogrammed flask, which he dropped in the man's hand.   
"Here. Shut up."  
  
He stalked off. Pity. Ha. "Nothing bleeding on me," he   
muttered. "Didn't you hear? I don't have a heart to   
bleed. Asshole."  
  
***  
  
Metropolis  
Five months ago  
  
***  
  
"I'm tired of secrets."  
  
Lex sighed. "Trust me. If you told your parents, you   
would be much, much more tired of the flack they would give   
you."   
  
"They'll get *over* it." Clark was pacing beside the bed,   
wearing only unbuttoned jeans and one sock. Lex gave   
serious thought to getting out of bed just to remove the   
sock. And the pants. And...he made himself focus on the   
argument.  
  
"No. No, they won't."  
  
"You don't know them--"  
  
"Excuse me." Lex's eyes met Clark's squarely. "I do know   
them. I've known them for almost six years now, and they   
still don't trust me farther than they can throw me.   
Definitely not as far as you can throw me. They can handle   
me as your friend. They might even, with a great deal of   
time and therapy, be able to handle me as your lover. But   
you know what? The minute you tell them I know about your   
past, your father will have you in the Superhero Protection   
Program."  
  
How many times had they gone over this argument? Lex let   
his mind drift away from the logistics of parental lying   
and back to that one dangling sock. If he stepped on it   
when Clark walked by, he just might trip him, and Clark   
flat on his back was never a bad thing.  
  
"I don't think you give them enough credit." Clark stepped   
into Lex's line of view, or rather his chest did. Lex ran   
a hand across it almost absently; he could feel the hitch   
in Clark's breathing, feel the muscles contract where their   
skin met. He moved his hand down towards the invitingness   
of those undone buttons.  
  
"They trust me," Clark said, although from the sound of his   
voice Lex would be able to distract him any second now.   
"Just because your father would screw me over without   
thinking twice--"  
  
"Never say 'father' and 'screw' in the same sentence," Lex   
said, speaking lazily to hide the burn in his throat.   
"Ever. Don't mention my father in the bedroom, really."   
His hand dipped still lower. "Why are we still talking   
about this? Isn't this the part of the program where we--"  
  
His hand was pushed very firmly away. "It's not always   
about sex, you know."  
  
"It's not?" Lex said with mock-innocence. "Because we're   
mostly naked in my bedroom, and if we just came up here to   
talk, you waited a while to tell me. Or are you really   
here for a discourse on corporate mission strategies? I   
really don't think that's your kind of--"  
  
"God *damn* it!" Lex blinked at the sudden vehemence.   
Clark was nearly shaking with fury. "Not another joke   
about how you're slumming with me. Not another attempt to   
seduce me out of a conversation. Listen to me, Lex."  
  
"I am listening."  
  
"No, you're too busy having father issues and trying to   
feel me up."  
  
Lex threw the covers off and stood in one swift movement.   
Clark took a step back. "You're right. It's not about   
sex. And it's not about my father," he said coldly. "This   
is about a spoiled brat thinking his parents will give him   
whatever he wants. They're not just going to fall in line   
with whatever your master plan is. They'll see me as a   
threat. And my father will treat you just the same.   
That's how it *is.*"  
  
Clark's face had flushed at the "spoiled brat" comment.   
"It *is* two years of sneaking me out of my dorm room and   
making excuses for you to come to the plant on my   
vacations. What are you going to do when I graduate?"  
  
Lex shrugged. "I'll think of something then." Somewhere   
in between the dangling sock and his father's intentions--  
he flinched at the very thought--the argument had left its   
usual track. This was a battle now, and Lex knew better   
than to give up anything in battle.  
  
"Right. You'll think of something. Something to make my   
life even more twisted and dishonest. Because *I'm* the   
spoiled brat. Right." Clark moved forward until he was   
inches from Lex's face. "Tell me the truth. This isn't   
about me at all, is it? It's not to protect me. It's   
easier for you to lie."  
  
Sometimes a silence spoke for itself. A thousand replies   
came to mind, but none of them could stand up to that. "It   
is," he said slowly. Clark was already backing away. "I   
thought it was easier for both of us."  
  
"Fuck. *Fuck.*" Clark sat down and jammed his shoes on.   
He dug through the sheets until he found his shirt. Lex   
somehow felt more naked with each move Clark made to get   
dressed. "We've been arguing about this for two years. I   
don't know why I thought I could fix it."  
  
"Fix what? Why does it have to be broken?"  
  
"You don't get it, do you?" Clark yanked the shirt over   
his head. "I can lie to the world. Okay? I hate it, but   
I have to do it. I've accepted that. But I can't lie to   
my family. I don't know why I ever thought I could."  
  
His words had an almost physical impact. Clark's family.   
The people he loved. The people who had only accepted a   
Luthor on false pretenses.  
  
"I don't know why I thought you'd understand that," Clark   
said.  
  
"No." Lex's voice echoed oddly in his ears. "What would I   
know about family? About relationships? About protecting   
people? You have to have an actual heart for that, and   
everyone knows the Luthor model isn't equipped with that   
particular enhancement."  
  
Clark looked up from buttoning his shirt. For the first   
time, his hands faltered. "Lex..."  
  
"You're right." He drew himself up to his full height.   
"I'm surprised it took us two years to realize what a   
mistake this was."  
  
Clark's mouth shaped the word "mistake," but he didn't   
argue. He just left.  
  
***  
  
Metropolis  
The day after Thanksgiving  
  
***  
  
Clark landed in his favorite deserted alley and looked   
through the walls before walking out casually. No point in   
being circumspect about the flying, just to walk into   
someone who knew he hadn't been there a second ago. He   
headed for the dorm, checking his watch as he went.   
Between holiday shopping, family visits, and the wonders of   
the new tractor, no one at home would miss him for a couple   
of hours yet. And he just really needed to be   
someplace...else. Somewhere away from the lingering looks   
and the tactful queries and somewhere, underneath, the   
demands that he just get over it. Even his friends, who   
only knew he'd ended a relationship "badly" (what an   
understatement) had stopped asking questions and were   
making noises about fixing him up.  
  
"Male or female," Chloe had said cheerfully over a serving   
of Dutch apple pie. "You pick. We'll find you somebody,   
Clark."  
  
Only sheer manners had kept him from leaving the table.   
Preferably at a speed faster than light.  
  
*You're moping,* he told himself as he ducked around other   
pedestrians. *You weren't this bad in high school. Well,   
yes, you were, but you should be over it. All of it. I'm   
sure Lex is.*  
  
Lex didn't wake up in the middle of the night reaching   
for...well, if he did, there was someone there, not a dream   
or a memory. Lex wasn't still replaying their last   
conversation five whole months after the fact, trying to   
figure out where he'd made whatever crucial mistake he'd   
made. Lex had moved on. And Clark would too.  
  
Clark looked up. Yeah. Just as soon as he stopped   
automatically walking past Lex's condo, anyway.  
  
He stared up at the wall. If he focused tightly, he could   
just see one of the penthouse windows. Lex's office   
window.  
  
*Now you're a moping stalker,* he told himself. *Move your   
alien feet. Go. Home.*  
  
There was a quick burst of movement near him, and Clark   
looked down to see doormen and limo drivers and all kinds   
of assorted servants bustling around the front entrance.   
He knew that level of obsequiousness. Lex.  
  
He was tempted to speed away, but just the thought of   
seeing him again scrambled Clark's brain, and he couldn't   
send the orders to his feet fast enough. And then the wall   
of people parted, and Lex was standing there, wearing all   
black and all attitude.  
  
Clark swallowed, hard, but even when Lex's gaze reached him   
he didn't move, although his legs locked with the effort of   
keeping still. His fists clenched in his pockets. He saw   
Lex say something--his name maybe?--and take a step   
forward, but there was a noise behind him and Lex turned   
away.   
  
Clark stayed rooted to the sidewalk until the last of the   
people crowding the door had disappeared. If he looked up   
and through, he could see the elevator ascending, see Lex   
walk into his home, see if he went to the window to look   
down.  
  
He didn't look up. He made his way back down the street   
blindly. Lex's face seemed burned in behind his eyes   
somewhere, and he couldn't forget it. *It doesn't matter.   
It's over. He's over it. It's a mistake, remember?*  
  
But that last look wouldn't let him go. Lex's eyes, and   
something in them. Something that might have been regret.  
  
--the end-  
  
Challenge notes: The following lines are taken from Elizabeth Smart's book "By Grand Central Station I Sat Down And Wept." The Elizabeth Smart Challenge can be found here: http://www.dreamwater.net/ladyjaynel/smartfic.htm and I recommend not only the fic but the challenge itself. Great food for thought.  
  
"Day deceives, but at night no one is safe from hallucinations. The legends here are all of bloodfeuds and suicide, uncanny foresight and supernatural knowledge."  
"Moon, moon, rise in the sky to be a reminder of comfort and the hour when I was brave."  
"There is no room for pity, of anything. In a bleeding heart I should find only exhilaration in the richness of the red." 


End file.
